Right Beside You
by ScaryBones
Summary: After a game of spin the bottle at Craig's birthday party, Cartman realizes he's in love with Stan. Multi-chapter fic! Stanman COMPLETE!
1. Spin the Bottle

_Okay, so this is gonna be a long one. I've written a lot of one-shots lately, so now I'm ready to be writing this big ol' thing. I'll still be doing oneshots and taking requests and all that, so keep sending them! _

_Yeah, about the pairing, Stanman is my fav, so if it doesn't float your boat, or if it isn't your cup of tea, you don't have to read it. I know there are still oddballs out there who love this pairing!_

_Cartman's POV_

xxx

When Kenny told me that Craig was throwing a party, my first instinct was to refuse. I hated Craig, he was so...boring! But then Kenny started talking about how'd there be a lot of food and booze, so I guessed that it'd be okay to go. Might as well, can't let all that food go to waste, you know.

So here I was, stuck at this loser's party, surrounded by a bunch of drunk people. The music was way too loud and I almost exploded when Kenny banged into me.

Let's explain Kenny, shall we?

Kenny has a reputation of being the school's biggest whore. I know that it's not true, but I don't contradict them; Kenny seems pretty happy with his rep. He gets all the attention, unlike when we were kids where he just stood around and got ignored. He has chicks and guys all over him. All the time.

He doesn't seem to mind it, though. But if that were me, I'd have killed a couple people already. So, Kenny is hot. I say that in a totally not gay way, it's just what's been going around school. And I have to admit, the rumor's right. Kenny has perfectly white, straight teeth. I have no idea how he got such nice teeth, him being poor and all.

Kenny also has really nice hair. It's a dirty blond and it looks good on him, I guess. He's a little on the tall side, too, taller than the rest of us. But I'm still pretty tall, only an inch shorter than his six foot 3 inch stance.

"Kenny, watch where you're going!" I shouted above the noise of people talking, the music, and of Kenny and Bebe's lips smacking together. He pulled away long enough to stick his tongue out at me.

This was lame. I don't know why I let him drag me into this in the first place. Oh wait, the food!

I walked over to the table, where chips and soda and punch was thrown messily on. I grabbed a couple bags of chips, a bottle of soda, and took a spot on the couch. I was just about to open my beloved Doritos when the music got turned down.

"Who wants to play spin the bottle?" some genius asked. Sounded like Clyde. I rolled my eyes. That game was _so_ junior high. But, nonetheless, people agreed and formed a circle in the middle of Craig's living room.

I smirked and made my way to the circle. I planned on ruining the game by making someone kiss me. There were a few moans at my appearence into the circle, but no one told me to leave.

"Okay, here are the rules," Bebe started. "You have to kiss whoever it lands on. It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl. And the kiss has to last five seconds. No more, no less."

"Sounds like a plan," Wendy, that ho, added. Clyde put an empty beer bottle in the center of our group. "So, who goes first?"

"Let the birthday man go first," Clyde said, putting his arm over said boy's shoulder.

"Fine, if I have to," he mumbled in that boring monotne voice of his. He spun the bottle and I smirked, wondering who he'd have to kiss.

The bottle slowed and it landed on Bebe. She smiled, but I could see that it was forced. Couldn't be mean to the birthday boy. They crawled toward each other and pecked on the lips, Craig keeping his same old expression. They went back to their spots.

"Alright, my turn," Bebe said and spun the bottle. That whore. I could see her face brighten when the bottle landed on Kenny.

Kenny smirked and ran a hand through his hair. The whore and my best friend practically devoured each other while they kissed.

Some people counted down, but the two didn't stop when they got down to one.

"Alright, alright, break it up!" Clyde said, pulling Kenny off Bebe. "That was at least eight seconds. Bebe, you made the rules up and even you can't follow them."

"Whatever," she said. "Kenny's turn."

He looked at me and grinned. "Let's see who I get to torture!"

He spun the bottle dramatically and smirked as it went around the group. It started to slow and I could see the girl's expressions light up, hoping it'd be them.

The bottle stopped on Stan. A few people chuckled, but it was nervous. It was the first same-sex kiss of the game.

Kenny and Stan smirked at each other. Fags. The laughed while crawling towards each other, kind of nervous, kind of relaxed.

"I'm warning you, Stan," Kenny said. "Once you get kissed by a McKormic, you can't resist them."

"Whatever, dude," Stan said, laughing. "Let's just do this."

Their lips touched and I almost shouted fags, but I didn't want to risk the chance of me getting disqualified out of the game.

"Five...four...three...two...one..." the countdown went. Kenny clung onto Stan. "Alright, you guys!"

They broke apart and laughed. "Dude, why'd you try to get your tongue inside?"

"Haha, just testing you, Stanny."

This was a total gay fest.

"Alright, Stan, quit daydreaming and spin it already," I said. "Fag."

He glared at me with one eye. The other eye was hidden under his bangs, the emo. Seriously, he even wore skinny jeans and piercings and the eyeliner. I didn't mind it, and it didn't seem like anyone elso did, either. Kyle had a fit when he first saw Stan like that, but i guess he finally chode to ignore it. It didn't change Stan's personality like it had when he went all 'Raven' on us. But that didn't mean the goths kids weren't all over him, now. I'm pretty sure they _all_ wanted him.

Stan spun the bottle and I smirked as it slowed. It looked like ti was going to land on Wendy. That would be so awkward for both of them, considering that she broke up with him just last year.

It passed her. I looked away, mad that it wasn't going to land on her.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Craig said suddenly, something other than boring in his nasally tone. Sock. "Haha, I feel bad for you, dude."

I looked back at the circle, eager to see who Stan had to kiss. Maybe it had gone around again and landed on Wendy!

I looked at the bottle. It took me a minute to realize it was pointed at me.

"Oh, no, no, no," I said. "no way am I kissing the fag."

"You have to," Bebe said. "You're in this game, you have to."

"Just get it over with, dude," Clyde said.

"Fine, fine," I muttered. Maybe I could make Stan miserable. That was good enough, right? He'd be known as that kid who kissed Eric Cartman. Ha! "Let's get this over with."

I crawled to the middle of the circle. Stan sighed and did the same. But he did it in this sexy way. Wait, no! He's not sexy! What was I thinking? Maybe I had too much to eat.

"Alright, let's do this," I said. "But if you try anything, I'm gonna hit you so hard, you'll be thrown into next week."

"Like I'd try anything, tubby," he said, glaring. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Just do it already!" someone yelled. I think it was Kenny.

I leaned in closer but my arm went out and I crashed into him. Our lips met and I could taste the metal of his lip ring. We continued to kiss, although I could taste his blood ni my mouth. Unsure what to do, I put my hand on his cheek. His eyes went wide and we pulled away.

"Um, gay," Craig said, but chuckled. "Dude, you totally killed Stan."

"Yeah, and that lasted like, seven seconds," Bebe added.

I looked at my hand. It had his blood on it. Disgusting.

"Ey, it only lasted that long because _he _was still kissing!" I yelled. "And I put my hand on him to try to push him away."

"Right," Kenny said. "That looked like a really gentle push to me."

"Yeah, what was with that?" Stan asked, wiping blood off his face. "It felt like you were trying to make it all sweet."

"Whatever, believe what you want," I said, and stood. I grabbed some napkins off the table and wiped his blood off my hand. He stood next to me and grabbed some for his face.

"Sorry," he said. I looked at him in shock.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I made a big deal out of it," he whispered. "It wasn't your fault."

"Whatever, fag," I said, and walked away. I just wanted to go home.

xxx

Once home, I couldn't help but think about Stan. I thought back to the moment where he was crawling towards me. He looked so...hot, I guess.

I don't know why, but I found him attractive. The way he moved was just...weird? No, it was awesome, cute, maybe.

I can't believe I'm thinking about him like this? I mean, it's _Stan_, for God's sake! The emo, the fag. _The incredibly hot one._ His long legs looked good in skinny jeans, I'll admit, and I guess I did like the way the make up makes his blue eyes pop. And his hair was _god._ Straight and long up front, short and kind of fluffy in the back. Even his piercings looked nice.

He had a loop one on his bottom lip, next to a studded one. He had one on his eyebrow. His ears were covered in the piercings. And thanks to his locker being next to mine in the locker room, I know he even had one on his belly button. How faggy.

But I guess it looked great on him. He said that his mom didn't know about the navel ring; the goth kids gave it to him. As in he actually let them stick a needle through his skin.

I decided that'd it be best if I just stopped thinking about him before I thought about _other_ things, so I went to sleep.

xxxx

_Okay, I think that was the ost I've ever written in a single chapter. Review my dearies!_


	2. Metal Mouth

_Mua ha ha! Chapter 2!_

xxxxxxxx

Over the weekend I decided that I didn't care about Stan. I mean, he was just...Stan. He was just a stupid fag. And I was not gay! In fact, I decided that I was going to go out with Patty Nelson. I'd ask her out on Monday. She was single, and we've went out before. So all I have to do is say I'm a change man, and work my charm on her.

"Poopsikins!" Mother.

"What, Mom?" I yelled. "I'm in the middle of something!"

"Well, I just want you to come downstairs for a minute," she said, almost begging. God.

I got up from my spot on the bed and walked downstairs. This better be good.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and she has her arm wrapped around a guy. Oh, I'm so shocked.

"Honey, this is my new boyfriend," she said.

"Boyfriend?" I asked. "What do you mean boyfriend?"

"Well, we met at a...um, club," she said, and I knew she was lying about it. She probably just brought him home to make some money. "And we instantly clicked; he's such a gentleman!"

He kissed her hand and she giggled. I couldn't help but notice that he looked different. Not like any of the other men she's brought to the house before. He looked nice, well dressed, I guess. Mother looked nice, too. She had on one of her best dresses.

"Are you two going somewhere?" I asked.

"Why yes, Sweety," she said. "That's what I wanted to tell you. We're going on a date and we'll be back late, so I guess you get the house to yourself. Just don't throw any parties. There's lasagna in the oven, so don't forget to take it out. Bye honey!"

Lasagna! Yay! She gave me a kiss and left with her new boyfriend. She didn't even tell me his name, so he must not be that important.

I walked to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the oven to go off so I could eat my lasagna. I looked at the wall, hoping to find something that would keep me entertained until my food got done. The clock read 9:37pm. I wondered how late they would be out. Like it mattered.

My eyes drifted to the fridge. There were poorly drawn pictures on the door of it. _She still kept my kindergarten projects up there?_ How embarrassing. I got up and took the pictures down and shoved them into a drawer. Many of them were about me killing Kyle, but there was one about me and my friends. Why'd I draw us holding hands? How gay. I tucked that picture into the bottom of the drawer and sat down at the table once again.

I think back to the man Mother brought home. He was dark. Not really dark, a light dark, if that made sense. But he had blue eyes. Like, bright blue, like Stan's.

There I go again, thinking of that faggot. Wait, didn't his parents divorce? Yeah, I remember him saying something a couple years ago about his mom bringing home some redhead guy. And didn't his mom get married to that guy? I remember going to their wedding, but I was mostly interested in the food. Stan cried at the wedding. He didn't want them to marry each other.

He was a wreck back then.

I guess that's when he went all emo on us. I remember one time when we were changing in gym, I saw some cuts on him. I didn't say anything about them. I thought that maybe Sparky attacked him or something.

But then they started multiplying, and they were getting deeper. He saw me looking at them one day and he became embarrassed and shy suddenly. I still didn't say anything about it. After a couple of months, the cuts started disappearing. They turned into scars. There weren't any new ones.

I wonder if he liked the pain.

xxxx

I walked up to Patty and asked her out. She flatly declined. I flipped her off and told her how I changed. She cussed me out while I rolled my eyes.

If she was gonna be that way, who needed her? There were plenty of other girls who needed a man.

I was looking around for one in my first hour, English. The teacher was talking about some kind of book and what we were supposed to do, but I was too preoccupied.

Maybe I could get Wendy? Ha, that'd show her. I'd totally own her. Be nice to get her reeled in, then blackmail her into the relationship. She'd be so miserable, and I'd make sure she didn't tell a soul.

Bebe would also work. She's a whore, so I'd be able to get laid pretty quickly. Maybe I couldn't have her in a relationship, but I'd use her as a one-night stand, maybe.

"Eric Cartman, do you mind?" Mrs. Salas asked. She was standing in front of my desk, holding up a book.

"What." I didn't ask, I demanded to know why she was up in my business.

"Please, at least _pretend_ you're paying attention!" she said, sighing afterwards. Whatever. I have more important things to do than listen to some book report, or something.

xxxx

"So, did you pick out a book?" Kenny asked. It was lunch time, and I was concentrating on eating. "Cartman?"

"Kenny, I'm busy," I said. "I didn't pick out no stupid book. I didn't even pay attention to the teacher."

"That's because you're dumb," Kyle, the Jew-rat said. "You're already failing that class."

"No one asked you, Jew," I said, going back to my food.

"Well, he's right," Craig said in his stupid nasally voice. I glared at him. He was messing with the rubber bands on his braces. "You couldn't pass that class even if you cheated."

"Whatever, metal mouth," I insulted. He took no offense to it.

"Cartman, just shut up," Stan told me. I glared at him. He still had a cut lip, and he was biting it right now, staring at me.

"Why don't you?" I asked. He rolled his eyes. Well, I could only guess that; his left eye looked away and I couldn't see his right one.

Why was he all defensive suddenly? Must've still been embarrassed from Saturday night and wanted to get back at me.

Whatever, he doesn't scare me. I'm way bigger than him. I can take him down.

I stared at Stan the whole lunch period, analyzing him. He kept looking over at Craig, whenever his stupid nasally voice said something. Stan would smile slightly at his words, almost blushing. What a fag. I decided to listen to what Craig was saying so I could see why Stan was acting like that.

It appeared that after I left the party, they continued playing the supid bottle game. Stan had to spin the bottle again since I had left and it landed on Craig. They kissed (which was apparently a lot more better than when Stan and I kissed) and Craig had blood on his chin when they stopped (after 9 seconds, a new record).

"Yeah, the blood was pretty sick," Craig said. "But the kiss was great, honey." He said this is a false gay tone. So I knew he was just joking around. He didn't like the kiss. But why was it so long?

I didn't ask. It wasn't important.

xxxxx

When I got home from school, my mother's "boyfriend" was sitting on my couch, watching TV. I couldn't believe that he was still here.

"Hey, Eric!" he said. He stood up and held out his hand. "I didn't mention my name last night. the name's Paul."

I didn't take his hand. That was faggy and I barely knew him. His smile dropped a little and he put his hand down.

"So, how was school?" he asked. I simply walked past him and into the kitchen, where mother was peeling potatoes. I grabbed a bag of chips and a soda and went up to my room, ignoring her greeting.

I flopped down onto my bed and sighed. It was only a matter of time until he found out she was a whore and left her. She was only setting herself up for hurt. And when she was hurting, she didn't feel like cooking, which meant I'd have to go over to Stan's house to eat. Ugh, that was one place I _really_ didn't feel like going to.

My phone suddenly started vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and flipped it open. Kenny was calling.

"It's called texting, Ken," I said as my greeting.

"It's called being too poor for a cell, stupid," he replied. I rolled my eyes.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing, just wanted to talk." I hung up. I didn't have time for his stupidity. The phone vibrated again. I let it ring. It stopped. And started again.

"What?" I yelled into the phone.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" Kenny asked. "I was trying to tell you something."

"Then tell me it!" I was getting annoyed now. He was wasting my time.

"I know you like Stan," he said bluntly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said. "I do _not_ like that faggot!"

"Then why were you staring at him at lunch today?" Kenny asked in a know-it-all tone.

"He had something on his face," I said, and hung up.

Another thing about Kenny: He thinks he knows everything about everyone. Sure, he's right most of the time. Well, _all_ of the time, but like they say, there's a first time for everything. There's no way in hell that I'd like Stan, ever! He's whiny, way too thin, and not to mention, _gay._

I, Eric Theodore Cartman, am completely and one hundred percent straight.

Stan, on the other hand, complete fag.

xxxxx

Friday night, Paul was still at my house. This was the longest any man has ever stayed. Except for that man who came all the way from Germany to have sex with my mother, but then he got arrested the second week. Turns out he was a rapist and man slaughterer.

Stupid mother, she doesn't know what she gets herslef into most of the times. One of these days, she's gonna end up getting killed.

"Eric, Sweety," she said. "We're going out to eat tonight."

"Oh, good, is there lasagna in the oven?" I asked. She shook her head. "Pizza again, mom? The last delivery boy didn't give me my change back and I had to kick him in the nuts!"

"No, Eric, I mean you're coming with us!" she said so cheerily.

"No I'm not." There was _no_ way I was going to eat dinner with her and that bozo.

"Eric, this isn't up for debate," she said. "You're going. But I'll make it up to you, you can bring a friend."

xxxxx

Kenny was more than happy to come with us to dinner. He kept thanking me and he tried to hug me, but I pushed him away.

"Try that again and you're not going," I warned. He smiled and moved away from me. "Alright, come on, get in the car."

At the restaurant, Paul bought the all-you-can-eat-buffet, and that's exactly what I did. I piled my plate so high, and I planned on eating it all.

Kenny also filled up his plate, and I saw him putting some food in a bag. Probably for his family.

Mother and Paul were making googly eyes at each other the whole evening, and I almost lost my appetite. Almost.

After I finished my plate, I got up to go get seconds. Kenny came with me, although he left his plate.

"So, who's the man your mom's with?" he asked.

"Her _boyfriend_, Paul," I said in a disgusted tone. "It'll only last a week or two."

"Hey, you never know, dude," he said. "It could be the next Tom."

"Who?" What was he talking about?

"Stan's step-dad?" he said, as though it was obvious. "Dude, you went to the wedding!"

"Well, _sorry_!" I said a little dramatically. "But it's not like I pay attention to those! I only went for the food."

He shrugged. "So, are you going to Token's party?"

"No. I didn't know he was having one, and I don't care."

"Stan's gonna be there." He looked at me. I threw a noodle at him. "Hey!"

"I don't like Stan," I said, very seriously. "I don't know why you can't get that through your head."

"Cartman, it's me," he said. "I know all."

xxxxx

Well, Kenny finally convinced me to go. He said that Token's food was much better than Craig's, and that we weren't going to play any stupid games. He had me at the part about food.

So I agreed and he said that he'd take us in his pickup truck. He also mentioned that Stan and Kyle would go with us.

Like I cared.

I was about to say no when he brought Stan up, but then Paul started talking about how we should have some bonding time.

So I refused Paul, saying I was going to be busy all weekend. I'd probably stay at Stan's house after the party. Not alone, that is. Kenny and the Jew would probably be there too, so Stan wouldn't _fag out_ on me, or something.

xxxxxx

_There you have it!_


	3. Crushed Lawn Ornaments

_Okay, here's chapter three. Hope you like it, my pretties. _

xxxxxxx

"Mom, I'm going out," I said and I pulled my jacket on. "Probably won't be back till Sunday."

"Okay, Eric," she said, and I could practically _hear _the distraction in her voice. I rolled my eyes. Too busy with Paul to pay attention to me.

Kenny's horn honked outside. I checked my reflection in the window one last time before opening the door.

I almost ran into Stan, who was probably sent from the truck to get me. "Oh, you ready?" he asked. I thought about shoving him aside, but something inside me made me refrain.

"Yeah." We walked to the truck, him slightly in front of me. He was wearing his _best_ skinny jeans and a bright green shirt, surprisingly. He also had green converse on, and his belt was studded black and green.

What a fag.

"Oh, guys, there's not enough room in my pickup for all of us," Kenny said. "So Stan's gonna sit on your lap. That okay?" He gave me a smirk, like he planned for it. I glared at him.

"What?" I asked.

"Would _you_ rather sit on his lap?" Kenny asked.

"He'd kill me!" Stan said, and chuckled. "Come on, dude, quit making such a big deal out of it."

"What if someone sees?" I asked.

"Since when do you care about what anyone thinks?" Kyle asked. I sighed.

"Fine, fine," I said, and climbed in next to the Jew. Stan backed up a bit. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna get a running start," he said. I rolled my eyes and grabbed him. He was lighter than I expected. I lifted him up and sat him on top of me. "Oh, uh, thanks."

"Whatever," I said. He shifted. "You're so bony, Stan."

"Well, _excuse_ me," he said. "We can't _all _be beefy like you." He shifted again.

"Stan, you're on my crotch!" I yelled, shoving him forward.

"Ouch," he said. I realized I'd pushed him into the windshield. "Dude, sorry."

"It's fine," I muttered, and pulled him back so he was sitting on my right leg, instead of smack dab in the middle of my lap.

The rest of the ride was quiet, besides Kenny yapping the whole way, but I chose to ignore him. I couldn't believe how close Stan was to me. His back rested against my arm, his fluffy hair rubbing against my cheek every time he turned his head. I don't think he knew he was doing it, but he started tapping his fingers against my thigh, and I was afraid he would make me have a _head rush_, if you catch my drift.

But we got through the entire drive without incident and finally arrived at Token's house. He hopped off me and onto the ground, while I took my seat belt off. I wondered why I even put it on. If we crashed, I'd use Stan as an airbag.

We walked into Token's already full house and separated. I went immediately to the food table, and started filling a plate. I tried to find somewhere to sit down, but the whole place was packed, so I settled for standing in a very cramped kitchen. I was getting annoyed with all the people, but it sure beat hanging out with Paul.

I caught glances of Stan, and everytime I saw him, he had a drink in his hands. He was planning on getting drunk.

At one point, his eyes met with mine, but it wasn't the same. His eyes were cloudy, sort of. He wasn't focused, his eyes weren't as bright as they usually were. Was it the beer? Or was something bothering him?

I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed to get out. I pushed past people and fled out the back door. There were couples making out everywhere, some starting to get a little...well, I ignored them. I found a bush and sat down, my plate of food still in my arms. But I didn't feel like eating.

I set the food down and sighed. Why was this bothering me? Did I not like it when Stan drank? It's not any of my business, so why should I care?

I kicked my food and sent it flying. I didn't care about Stan.

A shuffle behind me cleared my thoughts. I looked up to see who it was.

Stan.

"Hey, Cartman," he said, standing drunkenly. He practically fell while trying to sit next to me. "Whatcha doing out here?"

"Getting away from you," I said harshly. He looked at me for a moment before he heard what I said.

"Why?" he asked. I didn't answer. "Remember when we kissed?"

"I faintly remember that, yes," I said. Was he gonna fag out on me?

"Do you wanna do it again?"

Before I could comprehend what he said, he pressed his lips on mine with such force, I thought he'd make _me_ bleed. I didn't know what to do, so I kissed back. He started messing with something on my pants, and I heard my zipper go down.

I couldn't do this; he was drunk. I wanted this...Was I gay? Maybe a little, but I couldn't let Stan do this. He'd regret it for the rest of his life, maybe.

As much as I didn't want to, I pushed him off. He fell backward, landing on his back with a thud.

"What's wrong, Cartman?" he asked. He sat up and looked at me. He leaned in again. I stood before he could kiss me. "What are you doing?"

"Stan, you're drunk," I stated. "Come on, let's get you inside." I grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"I'm not drunk!" he said, and then tripped, landing on my back. I sighed. No sense arguing with an idiot.

I grabbed him around the waist and picked him up. I threw him over my shoulder and walked inside. People were either passed out or too drunk to care, so I headed upstairs.

I finally found a room that wasn't full, and put him down on the bed. He was asleep. I watched him.

He was getting better, with his feelings, I meant. Sure he was still sensitive (there wasn't anyone _more _sensitive), but his scars were disappearing. And he was wearing brighter clothes, I noticed. I wonder why he started hurting himself. Was it because his parents split up? His step-dad Tom? Maybe his dog died, I don't know. But whatever happened, he didn't care about it anymore. It didn't bother him.

I looked back to his sleeping body. He looked so calm, so peaceful. I got up to go. He stirred. I bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead. He smiled and fell into a deeper sleep.

xxxx

"Come on, Ken," I said, pushing my best friend slightly. I was back downstairs, and a few party-people were still trying to keep it going, but by now, everyone was either gone home or sleeping. Kenny was laying next to Bebe, trying to kiss her, but both seemed too tired.

"Go on without me, soldier," he muttered and his head fell against Bebe's stomach.

Okay.

I grabbed the keys to his truck from his back pocket and walked outside. It was still dark out, so I had to watch my step (bodies everywhere) as I headed toward his truck.

I started the piece of junk and went home. I figured I could come back for them in the afternoon, when they were just starting to wake up.

xxxx

When I walked into my door, I could hear activity in the house. Mother and Paul upstairs, gross. I went up to my room and grabbed my Ipod of my desk. I turned the volume up all the way and went back downstairs. I layed on the couch and let the music blast away.

xxxxxxx

I woke up extremely early, and I had absolutely nothing to do. I went foraging in the kitchen, trying to keep my ind busy. I made bacon, eggs, soup, and some toast.

I sat down at the table and sighed. I didn't want to eat. I wasn't in the mood. But how could that be? I was always hungry, well, at least I thought. Why couldn't I eat right now?

I growled and stood up from the table, grabbing the keys to _my_ car and went for a drive. I thought about what happened last night. I didn't want to, but it kept popping up in my head.

Stan tried to give me a blow job last night. I couldn't deny that, but didn't that mean he _wanted_ me? That he liked me? They say that when you're drunk, you can hide your feelings, especially if you've got them for another person. Well, I wasn't drunk, so why'd I want him so badly?

I was thinking so hard that I didn't notice I was heading toward Token's house. Might as well. Gotta pick up my friends anyway.

I stopped the car in front of Token's house and walked inside. A lot of the people were gone now, but I knew that my friends were still inside. After all, I took Kenny's truck, and it was a _long_ walk back to town.

I saw Kenny on the floor; Bebe was no where to be found. Must've left with that ho, Wendy. I shook Kenny harshly. I just wanted to go home. No, I didn't. I didn't want to go anywhere. But I couldn't. I had to be somewhere! Ugh.

Kenny's eyes opened and he groaned. "Get up," I said. "We're all going to Stan's."

We were?

"We are?"

"Yeah, so get in the truck while I get the Jew and the fag."

I decided I'd try to find Kyle first. But where could he be?

After checking the study and the library, I finally found him walking around Token's art room.

"Come on, Jew, we're leaving." He glared at me before sighing and following me upstairs, where I hoped Stan would still be. I didn't to go on another man hunt.

I walked into the room I put him in and he was still passed out. "Wake up your boyfriend, Jew."

Kyle glared at me. "He's not my-"

"Just do it!" I yelled. Stan stirred.

"Come on dude, we're leaving," Kyle said, shaking Stan gently.

"Get up fag, or I'll leave without you!" I shouted and kicked the bed. Kyle glared at me. "What? I wanna go."

Stan opened his eyes and sat up. I headed over to the window and pulled open the drapes. The sun was out now and it sent light right onto his face. He turned away, sheilding his eyes with his hands.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Come on, we'll stop by the drug store and grab some aspirin." My offer must have seem like god to him, because he stood and stumbled out of the room.

Kenny was sleeping in the front seat of his truck. I knocked on his window. "Wrong vehicle, we're taking mine."

"I'll drive him home," Kyle offered, grabbing Kenny's car keys from my hand. "Coming Stan?"

"No, I wanna go to the store first," the fag said. "I'll go with Cartman."

"Suit yourself," Kyle said and climbed into the driver side of Kenny's truck. He started the truck and backed up, going a little too fast and running over one of Token's lawn ornaments. Kyle's face went white for a minute, and Kenny looked back and said something. They both looked at each other and nodded. They waved at us and took off.

"Let's go before Token thinks it was us," Stan said suddenly, and I heard my car door slam. I turned toward the car and got in.

"Okay, so there's a Walgreen's near my house," I said. "We'll stop there, and I guess I'll drop you off at your house."

"Just drop me off at the pond," Stan said. I looked at him. "Tom would kill me if he knew I got drunk. Plus, once he finds out I have a hangover, he'll make unnecessary noises all day."

"You can sleep at my place," I found myself saying.

"Really?" he asked. I forced myself to nod. "Thanks."

"Whatever."

xxxxxx


	4. High on Laughter

_Sleepover chapter here we go!_

xxxxxxxxxxx

I pulled up in the driveway, happy to see that Paul's pickup truck was gone. Good, maybe he left forever. We got out of my car and I tried to open the door. Locked. Which meant that mother must have gone with Paul.

_And I thought that Paul had left for good._

"Stan, there's a key under one of those rocks," I said, and he went to work, bending down and checking under various rocks. I couldn't help but admire the view.

He finally found the key and handed it to me. I unlocked the door and kicked it open. I threw my keys down on the table, and sent Stan back outside to return the emergency key.

I flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Stan came back in and looked at me.

"Where am I going to sit?" he asked, placing a hand on his hip. I motioned toward the floor. He sighed and sat in front of me, putting his arms on his knees and watching the television.

I don't know why, but the moment felt good. It was nice hanging out with Stan alone. No Kyle to distract him, and no Kenny to ruin the mood. I suddenly got hungry, so I stood and went to the kitchen, Stan giving me a questioning look before taking my spot on the couch.

I took out the breakfast I had made but hadn't eaten and warmed it in the microwave. I sat at the kitchen table and played with some dust while I waited for my breakfast to heat up.

The TV went off in the living room and footsteps were heard behind me. Stan went over to a cupboard and pulled down a glass. He opened his bottle of aspirin I bought him and filled the glass. He sat down across from me and took his pill. "So-" the ding of the microwave cut him off. I got up and prepared my food, while Stan sipped at his water.

"Do you feel sick?" I asked. He looked back at me.

"No, why?"

I grabbed an extra plate down and got him some soup and toast. I didn't know if he was still vegan or not, so I didn't give him any bacon and eggs.

I set the plate down in front of him and took my plate to my spot.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We ate in silence, the only sound was me choking on some bacon, and Stan's chuckle afterward.

"So," he started again. "Where's your mom at?"

"Probably on some stupid date with her boyfriend," I said, snarling as I tore into a piece of toast.

"Paul?" he asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" I asked, giving him a look.

"Kenny told me."

"Mmm."

There was another silence, but it didn't seem awkward. "Do you like him?"

"Who?" I nearly choked on my eggs. "Kenny? No! He's poor!"

"No," Stan said, laughing a little. He put on a more serious look. "I meant Paul. Do you like him?"

"No, I hate him," I said. "But he won't be around for long."

"How come?"

"Well, they usually never stay long," I said, taking a spoonful of soup. "He's probably from a foreign place or something."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"That's how I acted with Tom," he said, looking at his toast as he ripped the crust off. "I hated him, too."

"Do you still hate him?" I found myself asking. Did I really care?

_Maybe a little._

"No. Well, not as much." Stan dropped his crust in the water, watching it soak. It felt like he wanted to go on, but maybe he didn't think I'd listen. Which I probably wouldn't.

He glanced at me and that was it. I had to hear about his _feelings_.

I tried to think of a question to ask, but thought of none.

"So, uhhh, does your mom like him?" I asked stupidly. He gave me a weird look, one that said that I was retarded.

"Uh, she's married to him, isn't she?" he asked. I looked away. Who wanted to hear about his life anyway? "Cartman, I'm sorry. It's not you, I'm just...still sad, I guess."

I looked back at him, glaring. My expression softened when I saw that he was sincere. "Whatever," I said. "Talk about it if you want."

He smiled at me, and I saw that he still had the cut I gave him the week before.

xxxxxxxx

"So, that's why I started...you know," he said. "Hurting myself. I guess I just didn't know any other way to get my feelings out, I don't know."

"What made you stop?" I asked. He bit his lip.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?" I asked. We had gotten this far. His dad moved out when he found out his only son was gay, Stan started cutting, Tom moved in, it got worse. Then what? What made him stop all of the sudden?

"It's stupid," he said, looking embarrassed. "You'll rip on me for it."

"Stan, if I wanted to rip on you, don't you think I would have done it already?" I asked.

"I guess," he said, still sounding uncertain.

"Stan, I swear I won't make fun of you," I said nonchalantly. "Just, out with it."

"Okay," he said. He took a deep breath. "Well, at the wedding, when the two of them were getting married, you know, well, it kind of hit me then that they were going to be together for a long time.

"My mom looked so happy with him, which kind of made me smile, but I still hated Tom," he continued. "But it's strange. Because what really made me happy that day, was when I looked over at the buffet table, you and Kenny were fighting over the last chicken wing."

"Are you serious?" I asked. How could that make anyone happen. Kenny eventually pried the thinkg away from me, so it didn't make me happy.

"Well, I mean that I realized that I had friends, you know?" he asked, looking angry. "Ugh, I can't explain it. Well, I guess that you guys knew that I was cutting myself." He look at me and I nodded. "And I hated the looks you guys would give me. The _concerned _ones, the _disgusted_ ones, even your _apathetic_ look."

"So you realized that we care about you and all that," I said, trying to simplify it. "You saw that by hurting yourself, you were hurting people around you and blah." I tried not to sound so mean, but I hated having personal conversations with _anyone._

Stan nodded. There was a long silence afterwards. Tired of sitting in the same chair for the past three hours, I stood and gathered the dishes.

I tossed them in the sink and sighed. It was barely ten in the morning, and I was _tired_.

"Ugh, let's go upstairs to bed," I said, and hit his shoulder lightly.

We went upstairs and I immediately collapsed on my bed. I closed my eyes and yawned. After a while of not hearing any movement, I cracked open. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking around.

"Stan, it's a king sized bed," I deadpanned. "You can lay down on it."

I closed my eyes and heard him walked around to the other side of the bed. He climbed on and laid down beside me. I tried to get comfortable by shifting, but my hand brushed along his backside.

My face went red and I froze. Did he notice? I snuck a look at him. He was looking at me, smiling. "I felt that."

"It was an accident, fag," I said. "Hope it didn't turn you on." It was his turn to blush. We both looked away from each other.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he started to laugh. I chuckled a bit, amused with him. Soon he was cracking up and holding his side.

"What's so funny?" I asked, and started to laugh a little harder. He shook his head.

"Your face!"

"Oh yeah? Well you should have seen the look on yours when I asked if it turned you on!" I exclaimed and started laughing as hard as him.

This continued for a couple minutes. It would die down, but then one us of would have a muffled outburst, which would start a whole other fit.

The next moment, everything was quiet. I blinked. Stan was still next to me, but he was sleeping.

_We laughed ourselves to sleep._

I shook my head and sighed. I must have had too much food or something. I don't know why we thought such a stupid thing was funny, but I guess it _must_ have been hilarious, otherwise we wouldn't have laughed so hard.

Stan stirred beside me and my gaze grew intent on him. I let my eyes look over his sleeping body. He looked like he did last night, although he looked much more brighter and happy.

I don't know if it was because he didn't have alcohol in his system, or if it was because he was with me. But either way, it made me smile.


	5. Short Skirts and Skinny Jeans

Okay! Here's the next chapter, finally. Sorry it took so long!

* * *

Well, Stan and I have become closer now, I guess, what with Kyle studying a lot. It's kind of nice, just the two of us. Sure Kenny sometimes tags along, but I'm mostly focused on Stan.

So we were at lunch, sitting close together, kind of like what him and Kyle would probably do, but Kyle's not here, so I took his spot (the Jew's in the library, studying for some kind of Medieval thing.

"Hey, we're going to the mall today," Craig's annoying voice calls out, and I don't know whether he's talking to me or Stan. "Do you want to go?"

He looks at Stan, so I know the request wasn't intended for me. "Sure," Stan says. He turns to me. "You wanna come with us, Cartman?"

"Whatever," I say, trying to remain casual, even though I'm somewhat happy that I'll be with Stan. "As long as we stop at the food court first." Craig gives a look at Stan, who pretends he doesn't see it.

We had to fit Craig, his faggy boyfriend Tweek, Token and Clyde, plus Stan and I (and Butters also tagged along) into Craig's pickup truck. It had only a row of seats in the front, which was reserved for his boyfriend and Clyde. The rest of us had to pile in the back.

"I'm pretty sure this is illegal, fellas," Butters complained. I rolled my eyes.

I climbed up on the truck, and the back went down. I heard Tweek scream in the front, and Craig yelled back, "Hey, you're gonna tip the truck!"

"Whatever, fag," I shouted at him as I got into the bed of his "precious" truck. I sat down near the front, with Stan on my right. Butters and Token sat near the end, complaining that I took up all the room.

* * *

Instead of stopping at the food court like I wanted, we went to Mervyn's, which was connected to the mall. I sat down on a chair intended for husbands who got dragged along with their wives while everyone looked around for clothes.

I got bored and decided to walk around, noting that I had lost Stan somewhere in this mess of a store. A found a shirt that looked okay, even if it was in the XXL section. I headed for the changing room, happy that Stan and the others were no where to be seen.

Without thinking, I pushed open the first door I saw. There was a high-pitched girlish scream, and I thought that maybe I was on the wrong side of the store.

But Stan stood in the stall, in _only_ his boxers, which were a nice shade of green, I noticed.

"Oh, uh, just kidding," he said. "That scream was - I was kidding around."

Um, yeah," I said awkwardly and closed the door, my face becoming a deep shade of red. I sat down again, deciding to abandon the shirt on a random rack of clothes.

"Hey, does this look okay?" I heard Stan say, and turned my head as his stall door opened.

He was wearing a baby blue shirt that really brought out his eyes in a way his make-up couldn't.

"Yeah, that's looks nice!" Butters said, who I noticed was carrying a bunch of girls' clothes. Fag.

Stan went back in, and there was shuffling as he was probably putting his normal clothes on.

"What about this?" he asked. I turned my head over there again, and nearly choked on my own spit. Stan was in a skirt. As in, a tight-fitting, short skirt.

He looked nice. He looked directly at me, raising his eyebrows and smirking. "What do you think?"

I sputtered out the only thing I could. "You shave your legs?" He looked down at them and nodded.

"I don't like the feeling of hair on them," he said, and smiled at me. The smile seemed different though. He seemed different suddenly. But I couldn't quite figure out what it was. Something clicked inside me; I started feeling dizzy. All the blood rushed from my head.

_Oh, no_, I thought as Stan went back into the stall. _I need to get to a bathroom_.

* * *

After my ordeal with Little Cartman, I just wanted to go home. The sales clerk had been knocking on the door the whole time I was in the bathroom, asking if I needed assistance.

After I exited, he looked at me funnily, like he somewhat knew what I had been doing in there. I quickly ran past him, and met up with Craig and Tweek, who looked bored.

Stan already paid for his things, and I ripped the bag away from him, releived that it was only skinny jeans and some (oddly) bright-colored shirts. Like, neon bright.

We left for the food court, finally, and Craig bought some coffee. I headed near the fried food section, and ordered some pizza and fries. Food could always comfort me.

I sat down a little ways away from Stan, who had his head propped up in his hand. Butters was chattering away about what clothes he got. Stan suddenly perked up and grabbed Butters arm. "Let's go change into our new clothes right now!" he said. "I got some clothes at Spencer's I wanna try on."

The two ran down the mall with their bags flying behind them. I sighed. This wasn't turning out like I thought it would. I ate my food in silence and noticed that Craig gave his cup of coffee to Tweek. He leaned in for a kiss, and I looked away. The sound of them sucking face almost ruined my appetite. Almost.

Stan and Butters came back, the raven being dressed in some new jeans and a bright green shirt. Butters was in short shorts and a tank top. I sighed and rolled my eyes, accidentally seeing some "action" with Craig and Tweek. Didn't they need to breathe?

I choked on my pizza just then. No, not because Craig and Tweek were scarring for life (althought they were), not because I happened to notice that Stan was studying me, even though I didn't mind, but because walking down the stairs of the food court, waving right at me, was my mom and Paul.

I turned to Stan and grabbed his shoulders. He gasped and looked at me fearfully. "Quick, how did you get rid of your dad?" I asked. He gave me a half-lidded look, and I decided I liked him better when he was scared.

"By being gay."

"Oh. Well that's not gonna work right here."

"Whatever, just accept the fact that he's here!" Stan whispered harshly. "Your mom's happy, just deal with it like I have to."

"No," I said roughly, giving him a little shake. He glared at me.

"Whatever then."

"Fag," I muttered. He looked away, pretending that a zitty-faced pre-teen boy was more interesting than me. We sat in silence for a while, the only noises coming from Craig and Tweek's mouths. "Okay, I'm _sorry_." He looked over at me briefly, looked away, sighed, then turned toward me and smiled.

"It's okay," he said, and his voice sounded like he had almost started crying. I wondered if I had ever made him fell sad enough to cut himself. It was an odd feeling, but it didn't shock me. What if I hadn't said sorry today? Would he have gone home and hurt himself? Maybe, maybe not. But I didn't _feel_ anything toward him. Did I care if he cut or not?

Yes.

"Stan, remember when you said you hated my apathetic looks?" I asked gingerly.

"Huh?" he asked.

"When you were cutting, and you said it looked like I didn't care?" I questioned.

"Yeah."

"Did it bother you?" I asked, whispering.

"Maybe a little," he said softly, and there was a mix of emotions in his eyes: anger, sadness, and hope.

"I'm glad you stopped," I said. We looked at each other, studying the emotions in our eyes. His changed to relief, acceptance, and happiness, with a little bit of confusion.

"Thanks," he said, his voice cracking a bit. He reached his hand out and brought it near my face. I flinched away. His face went from the normal pale color it was to a deep shade of crimson. "Uh, I'm going to wait in the truck." He stood up and walked jaggidly toward the exit, as if he were drunk or dizzy.

Why did I flinch?


	6. Couch

Okay, so I got a flashdrive, which makes it a whole lot easier to update, so you can expect more chapters on this one and maybe a few one-shots on the side. I'm holding off my other story for the moment.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I like Stan. I really do. Cartman junior says so. But then why did I flinch? It's like my mind and my body are having a battle over who gets to control me.

The ride home was pretty lame. Stan didn't speak to me at all since I turned him down. The only noise in the vehicle was coughs and throat-clearings. It's been a whole week and he hasn't said a thing - at the lunch table he looks off in another direction, on the bus he sits with Kenny, and he walks ahead of me when we get dropped off in the morning.

I thought about just forgetting about him, that it wasn't meant to be anyways, but something inside me made me want to _do_ something.

So Friday, at lunch, when Stan got up from the lunch table and claimed to go to the library, I made up some lame excuse and ran off after him. He wasn't going to the library; he was heading off in the opposite direction. I cleared my throat. He didn't seem to notice. I cleared it louder. His head turned a little, but it wasn't enough to get his full attention. I blew air out of my nose, like a bull, and called out, "Stan, wait up!"

At the sound of his name, he turned around. Seeing it was me, he turned back around and continued walking.

"Don't walk away from me," I said as calmly as I could. I jogged to catch up with him. I put a hand on his shoulder and made him face me. "Listen to me; I'm sorry I flinched."

This surprised him. Probably because I never apologize to anyone, ever. Well, not sincerly at least.

"Look, I'm not gay," I said, and his face darkened. "But I like you. Uh, like, like like you."

"Y-you do?" he asked, his face going pale, then a deep shade of red. I sighed, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and nodded. A small smile appeared on his face. It quickly turned into a smirk. "So, you're straight, but you love _me_?"

"Hey, I didn't say I loved you," I said, and smirked right back at him.

"But you do."

Well...kinda.

It was right then I realised I still had my hand on his shoulder. Instead of jerking it away like my body wanted to, I pulled him closer, and _kissed_ him. He gasped and I took that oppurtunity to shove my tongue into his mouth.

He responded by putting his hands on my shoulders and playing with my hair. My hand traveled down his back and rested on his hip.

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" a voice cried out, and I knew it couldn't have been Stan. I mean, I would've _felt_ him talk.

We quickly broke away to look at the intruder, and I almost blew a casket when I saw none other than Kenny McKormic, gossip king. Not wanting to ruin my reputation, I pushed Stan away. He landed on his ass and had the most shocked face I'd ever seen on anyone. "Don't touch me, you fag!" I yelled at him, before turning sharply on my heels, and walking away.

Since that afternoon with Stan, I hadn't seen him at all. Usually we would hang out on the weekends, but I had hoarded myself in my house, with all the curtains drawn tightly closed. I sat on the couch in the livingroom, the whole place dark except for the amounts of light that came in through Mom's lacy drapes. There were Cheesy Poof bags everywhere and a pyramid of soda cans near the door.

An old rerun of Terrance and Phillip was coming on, one I hadn't seen in a while, so I snuggled into my blanket and turned the TV up.

It was half-way through the show, and I was drifting asleep, when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Paul cried, coming from the kitchen with an apron on. Supposedly, he was a great cook and was cooking us lunch to prove it.

He opened the door and a bunch of light came into the room, causing a glare on the screen. I was too tired to say anything though, and struggled to ignore Paul talk to whoever it was at the door.

"Eric, you have a visitor," he said, before heading back into the kitchen to finish "cooking".

"Kenny, go away, because I'm tired, and I don't want to talk about anything with you," I muttered.

"Well, then talk to me," a voice said. I looked over toward the doorway. A black figure stood in it, a halo of light around him.

"Stan, go away," I said. "I don't want to talk to you either." He put his hands on his hips. "And close that door; it's freezing in here."

He dropped his hands and turned toward the door. I couldn't help but chuckle at this - he was definitely _not_ a fighter.

After the door was closed, he turned back around and crossed his arms over his chest. "I demand an apology."

"What's that? Do you hear anything Cartman?" I asked myself. "Why, no, I hear nothing at all. Must be a bird."

"I'm serious," Stan said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Well, you can be serious all you want, but I'm going to sleep." I closed my eyes to make my point. I heard him sigh. He must've started coming towards me, because I heard a loud crash, aluminum hitting aluminum, and a mutter of curses. He must've tripped over the pyramid of soda cans.

I felt him sit down on the couch, and my eyes felt heavy. I smirked while he sighed, planning on waiting till he left to fall asleep.

I woke up and the entire room was black. The TV had been turned off and the sun had gone down. I tried to shift, but there was a weight on top of me. I reached my arm behind me and turned on the lamp.

Stan. Stan was laying on top of me. His hand was on my chest; his head under my chin. I could smell the fruity scent of his shampoo.

Wondering whether he lay down on top of me on purpose, or if he had just _fallen over_, I sat up a little. His shoes were off and his legs tangled with mine.

Yep, he'd done that on purpose. I sat there a while, thinking on whether or not I would shove him to the floor.

I decided to just shake him awake.

"Mmm," he muttered. I shook him again. "Knock it off."

"Wake up, you stupid fag!" I shouted, which succeeded in making him sit straight up.

He smirked at me. "Finally you're awake." He stretched a bit, his weight on my legs. "What time is it?"

"It's time for you to leave," I told him. He smiled at me, as if I was kidding. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not leaving until you apologize," he stated. He lay back down on me, and although I wanted to push him off, my arms didn't raise. He looked up at me with a surprised look. I looked down at him, and our eyes locked. His eyelids lowered a little and he looked me in both my eyes before leaning up to kiss me.

It was a quick kiss, not as long as our one earlier, but it meant more. We parted slowly and we stayed in silence for the longest time. Finally, he stood up and walked out the door, leaving his shoes. Confused, I grabbed his sneakers and raced out the front door.

He was sitting on the steps.

"Hey, stupid, you left your-" I stopped. Low moaning noises were coming from him. His shoulders shook. The shoes dropped from my hands. The smack of them hitting the ground was like a gunshot; Stan started sobbing. "What's wrong?" I asked, sounding more sincere than I intended to.

He just continued bawling until I had no choice but to lead him into the house. I dragged him upstairs and laid him down on my bed. He had stopped crying for whatever reason, and curled into the fetal position. Unsure of what to do, I just stood there.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. He turned around to face me, making sure I was still there. He sighed and sat up. "It's just, Tom, and..."

"Stan, are you okay?" I asked, knowing that we were getting into deep issues. He looked up at me, into my eyes, before he responded.

"No."

He lifted up his shirt sleeve and the wind got knocked out of me. Three sharp, red lines ran across his skin. They hadn't even had a chance to scab, so I knew they must have been recent, maybe today. I closed my eyes. "Stan..."

"I was doing so good!" he cried out suddenly. "I went six months without having to do this! I mean, I might've thought about it a few times, but I never actually did it, and now look!" He held his arm to his chest and sobbed.

I walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. I grabbed his arm and inspected it. He had cleaned it up pretty good, but I figured he'd want it covered up, so I rushed into the bathroom to get band-aids.

When I came back in the room he was lying on his back, sniffling. He sat up when I came in, and his eyes were red and tired. I pushed him back down and sat on the bed while I applied the band-aids. "What happened?" I asked.

He looked away and took a deep breath. "Tom and mom, they, they started fighting." I waited for him to continue. "About my dad. He was coming down to visit me." He looked at me with a small smile. "To apologize. He said he was going to get a house nearby so I could see him." The smile faded.

I squeezed his arm, accidentally pressing on the cuts, but he didn't flinch.

"Tom said he wasn't sure about my dad coming, since he's Mom's ex and all. But Mom said something about me needing my dad, and Tom started yelling. Mom started yelling, too." He glared at nothing in particular. "Finally they agreed and called my dad, told him not to come."

I figured this was the end of his story, because he closed his eyes and snuggled into me.

I ran my hands through his hair, which caused him to smile. I listened as his breaths got deeper and more relaxed.

Okay, so there's that chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! There will be more to come.


	7. Did It Mean Anything?

**Chapter 7 is here! Thanks for everyone who reviewed! And to those who take the time to read my stories! :D**

"Cartman, can I ask you something?" Stan asked. He was sitting on my bed, tapping his foot like he was Thumper or something.

"What?" I asked. I was on the floor, trying to do what homework I could. He had been over at my house all weekend, causing his mom to worry about him. She'd never expect that he was at _my_ house, so she had no idea where he was. I told my mom that Stan was probably going to stay over all week, and as usual, she had no problem with that.

It was kind of nice to have someone to rant about Paul to. Stan's hatred toward his own step-father made him more likely to get on my side.

"When we kissed - did it mean anything to you?" he asked, and held his breath. I didn't face him. There was a long, awkward silence; I decided I better answer him in case he was still holding his breath - I didn't want him to die in my room. Kyle would be on my case forever.

"Yeah." I heard him let out his breath, and I could picture the smile on his face. I felt his arms around me suddenly, and he laughed. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help laugh a little at his guesture.

"So, which ones mattered?" he asked. I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "The one at Craig's party, the one in the hallway, or the one on your couch?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," I said, smirking at him. He smirked back.

"All three?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "What about this one?"

He turned my head toward his and pressed his lips to mine. His eyes closed; mine stayed half-lidded. In the corner of my eyes I saw his band-aides under his sleeve. I closed my eyes and pulled him off the bed and onto the floor, deepening the kiss. His soft hands touched the back of my neck; my fat fingers traced his jaw. He smiled into the kiss and sighed happily, pulling away from me.

He looked into my eyes, searching for any emotion. I wanted to say, _I'm not Craig, Stan._ I held off, however, and showed him what I was feeling: happiness, exhaustion, and maybe even a bit of love.

He must've seen all three because he gave me another kiss, this time on the cheek, and crawled back onto the bed.

I crawled in with him, turned out the light, and we both fell asleep.

"Kyle, can you help me, please?" Stan begged, holding a slip of paper out to our Jew.

"Really?" Kyle asked, giving him a somewhat mad mother look. "I have to sign _another_ counselor note?" Stan looked at him and practically begged him with puppy dog eyes.

"Please? Pretty please with pythagorean theorem sprinkles on top?" Kyle couldn't keep a straight face and buckled to Stan.

"Alright, I'll sign your mom's name," Kyle said, and Stan gave a little cry of glee. "If you tell me what you did to get it."

Stan's face dropped and he took a deep breath. "Well, I kind of threw a pencil at my English teacher." The Jew's mouth dropped open so much I swear it'd hit the floor.

"You what?" Kyle exclaimed.

"Oh calm down, Jew," I said, rolling my eyes at him. "Just sign the paper for him and quit acting like his mom."  
"Well, why doesn't he just get his mom to sign it then?"

"I'm still here, guys," Stan said, breaking my and Kyle's fight. "I don't want her to sign it because I'm already grounded for running away; I don't need to add this in. Please, Kyle."

Kyle gave him a hard look before sighing and bending down to sign the note. Stan copied him, making sure Kyle still knew how to sign his mother's name.

I stood in back of them and smiled at the view I was getting. From Stan, not that Jew-rat. Gross.

Finally they both stood up and Stan took the note from Kyle, giving him a hug that looked like they hadn't seen each other for years. "See you, dude."

"Are you coming over this weekend?" Kyle asked. "We haven't hung out in forever." Stan stood still. He looked from me to Kyle.

He had made plans with me to go to the movies this weekend. I managed to not sigh, and said, "Of course he's coming over, stupid Jew. I guess you two butt-buddies are over-due for a make-out session."

Stan gave me a weak smile, and I guess he felt kind of bad about ditching me. I grunted and turned away, not about to show any emotions that would make him change his mind.

"I'll see you, Kyle," Stan said, and I heard him running after me. "Cartman, wait!"

I slowed down for him and waited till he caught up.

"Thanks," he said. "It's just that, Kyle and I haven't been together in a long time."

"Uh huh," I said. He walked along side me, not saying anything. I looked toward him and he looked away. "Look, I don't care if you and Kyle get together this weekend, okay? We'll just hang out Monday." He smiled at this and took my hand.

_Right in the middle of everyone._

I had the sudden urge to push his away, to get him out of my sight. But did I want him to draw away from me? No. I didn't want another "apology" scene.

Or did I?

No, I don't think he'd be very forgiving if I pushed him away again.

So I let him hold my hand as we walked down the hall, and _no one said a thing_. It might've been my reputation of _feeding kid's parents to them_, but no one did anything. If they saw us, they quickly looked away.

**Mua ha ha! Finished with chapter 7!**


	8. Massages and Haircuts, and Then Some

**Okay, I put this chapter off because I had absolutely no idea how to make it work. **

"Cartman, how much do you love me?" Stan asked. I looked up at him from my desk.

"Why?" I asked, wondering what he wanted.

"Just answer the question."

"I love you...just fine," I answered. What was I supposed to say?

"Just fine?" he asked. I nodded. He sat still for a minute. "Works for me."

He stood up from my bed and walked over to me. I felt his hands on my shoulders. He started rubbing them.

"What are you doing?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Practicing."

"You're gonna be a massage therapist?" I asked. He smiled.

"Yeah. That or a hair dresser."

"You really are gay."

"So, what are you gonna be?" he asked, moving his hands down my chest.

"I'm gonna get an army together and exterminate all the jews, hippies, and fags," I answered.

"But you're gay, too," he said.

"So, Hitler was Jewish and look what he did."

"You'd kill me?" he asked, taking his hands off me.

I nodded. "But don't worry, your death will be quick, unless you piss me off before then."

This answer seemed okay to him, and he continued massaging. He was pretty good.

"You should let me cut your hair," he said suddenly. I looked up at him with a blank face.

"And look like your emo ass?" I asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I cut Kenny's hair all the time," he responded. "And he's not walking around cutting himself."

"Kenny lets you cut his hair?" I asked. Kenny's hair_ did_ always look nice.

"Yeah, in fact, he was my first practice dummy," Stan said. He laughed. "Oh my god, you should've seen his hair the first time! He had to wear his parka hood up for a _month_ after that!"

"This is supposed to convince me to let you cut me hair _how_?" I asked.

"Oh, relax," he said. "His hair looks great now doesn't it?"

"Well, fine," I said. "But only because I don't want to spend forty dollars at that stupid barbar shop."

"Yay!" he clapped and rushed out of my room. "I'll be right back!"

I closed my eyes. What did I get myself into?

* * *

"Okay, you can look." Stan spun me around in the chair so I could face the mirror. I opened my eyes.

_Oh my god._

"What do ya think?" he asked, looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Not bad at all," I said. It looked _great_. He had parted my shaggy hair on one side and cut it so that it wasn't shaggy, but it wasn't super short. I ran my hand through it.

"You like it?" he asked. He sat down on my lap, facing me, and looked me in the eye.

"Yes," I said. We kissed.

My tongue found its way between his lips and we started making out. He ran his hands through my hair, causing some loose ones to fall on my shoulders.

He let out a little moan and I started getting hard. He stopped and looked down. Looking back up at me, he smiled deviously.

He slid off my lap and kneeled on the floor. I looked down at him, wide-eyed. He had the same look he had at the party, except his eyes were glazed over. This was pure Stan. He wanted to please me.

Me. Of all people, he chose me. Why?

I shuddered when I felt his hands slide up my thighs. His fingers played with my zipper and he looked up at me for permission. My mouth felt dry and my head was starting to hurt.

I nodded.

He undid my zipper and motioned for me to stand. I did, my knees feeling weak.

"Cartman, I've never done this before," he said. We looked at each other and smiled.

"You don't have to," I said, prepared to take a visit to the bathroom. He grabbed my hand.

"I _want_ to." I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Okay."

He took a deep breath before taking out my member. He looked at it for a while before popping into his mouth. I gasped at the feeling of it.

He started sucking on it slowly, occasionally looking up at me to see if he was doing it right.

I loved it.

* * *

Okay, there you go. That was my first R rated scene (that I've published at least) lol. More to come.


	9. Whore in Church

**Okay, so here's chapter nine for ya! Hope this story doesn't seem too rushed. R & R, please and thanks!**

"So, Eric, what do you like to do?"

I looked up from my homework. Paul was standing in my doorway, clad in jeans and a tank top, which did not look good on him, considering he had a farmer's tan.

I ignored him, looking back down to my homework. He took this as a sign to come in and touch my stuff.

"You play any sports?" he asked, picking up a scrimmage shirt. Stan's old one. How'd that get in my room?

I ignored his question but stopped doing my homework to keep an eye on him. He folded the shirt and, deciding that it was too small for me, asked, "Which one of your friends plays football?"

"None," I said. "That used to be Stan's but he quit."

"Stan?"

"Marsh. That emo kid."

"What's emo mean?"

I sighed. "Basically, you wear skinny jeans and dress in black."

"Oh, him." He put the shirt down. "Why'd he quit?"

I remained silent. What could I tell him? Make up a lie about how it was cutting family time away? I couldn't exactly tell him Stan was gay and that he hated getting picked on for it, could I?

"Well, he just lost interest in it, I guess."

"What was his position?"

"Well, in middle school, he used to be the quarterback."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "How did his dad feel about it?"

"I don't know; why does it matter?" I was beginning to get irritated by his questions.

He was silent for a moment. Then, "What are you doing?"

"Homework, do you mind?" The expression on his face told me that he got the hint.

"Oh, okay," he said. "Bye."

I ignored him and he walked out without another word. Finally.

xxx

"Here, Stan," I said, giving him the old shirt. He unfolded it and studied it for a moment.

"Where'd you get this from?" he asked, crumpling up the shirt and throwing it in his closet.

"Paul picked it up from my floor."

"Why was it at your house?"

"I don't know, _Stan_," I snapped. Just thinking of Paul in my room made me angry. Stan shut up. "Sorry, but I just wish he was dead."

"I had the same feeling with Tom," he said softly. "He never left me alone."

"Do you still have that feeling?" I asked. Stan shrugged.

"Sometimes, like when he acts like my dad," he said. "He grounded me a month ago for coming home past curfew. I wanted to kill him. I yelled at him, though. Told him he couldn't do anything because he wasn't my real dad. I got slapped for that."

"He slapped you?" I asked.

"No, my mom did. She overheard from the kitchen." Stan laughed. "I thought _she_ was gonna kill me." He was silent for a moment. "I felt so bad after that, though. I hated seeing Tom's face like that. I apologized that night. And he actually _forgave_ me."

"What a weirdo."

"Yeah."

There was a voice from the doorway. "You boys hungry?" Tom held out a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He walked into the room and handed the plates to us. "I had three of them," he said, laughing. "Good old childhood meals."

"Thanks, Tom," Stan said, but he set the plate on his bed.

"Not hungry?" Tom asked.

"I'll eat later." Tom studied him for a moment. Stan began looking irritated. "Look, I said I'd eat it later. Just go."

"Sorry," Tom muttered and walked out. Stan sighed.

"Tom," he called. "I'm...I'm sorry, but I just, I'll eat it, okay?"

"That's fine, you don't have to," Tom said, looking back in the doorway.

"Well, too bad, because I'm gonna eat it right now," Stan said, and laughed. Tom smiled and rolled his eyes before walking away again.

"Grr, he always gets his way," Stan said, picking up the plate. He smiled at me. Then he said something I wasn't expecting. "I love him."

"Really? Because that didn't look like love to me," I said.

"Ugh, it's because I can't control myself. Whenever I want to tell him I feel that way, I get mad instead."

"Well, I think he kind of gets the message, even though you don't _say_ it."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"It's in your eyes. I noticed that when you look at someone you love, your eyes get all bright, like, a brighter blue."

"Oh really?" he asked. "Well, what color are they now?" He stared at me. His eyes got bright.

"You love me, you fag," I said, pulling him into a headlock and rubbing the top of his head with my knuckles. He struggled to get away.

"Stop it!"

I let him go and he glared at me. "See, now your eyes are all dark, like you want to punch me in the face."

"Well," he said, but stopped.

"Well, what?"

"That's what the football players used to do to each other," he said. "I hated it." His eyes remained dark.

"Sorry," I muttered. His face softened.

"S'okay," he said under his breath. There was a pause. "I love you."

"Uh, yeah," I spat out. "You too." He rolled his eyes.

"_I love you too, Stan_," he said, mimicking my voice. He leaned into me. "Oh, you're so romantic." He placed a kiss on my cheek before turning away and taking a bite out of his sandwich. He smirked at me.

"Oh, whatever."

xxx

"Man, I'm sweating like a whore in church."

"You're _what_?" I asked. Kenny laughed. We were running laps around the track, and they were passing me for the second time. Somehow I always catch the awkward part of a conversation.

"An old family saying," he said. "I think it came from my great-grandma. Problem is, it was true. Ha ha!" We rolled our eyes.

"Dude, Token's having another party next weekend," Kyle said. "You guys wanna go?"

"Sure, I guess," Stan said. "But make sure I don't drink so much this time; you're supposed to watch me, dude."

"Hey, last time you tricked me!" Kyle said. "Remember? 'Oh, I'm going to get some punch, I'll be right back.' " He said this in a lisped voice.

"Yeah, cuz I _definitely_ sound like that," Stan said, smacking Kyle a little.

"Dude, you just lisped the word _sound_, so I don't know what you're talking about."

"I did not!" Stan said.

"Say 'Sally walks super swiftly', Stan," Kenny said.

"Sally walks super swiftly," Stan said, and he _did_ have a slight lisp. "Oh shut up, you guys."

"Oh, thut up, you guths," Kenny mocked. "Thally walkth thuper thwiftly, _like_ _totally_." Stan laughed.

"Whatever, I don't say that."

"Ha!" Kyle and Kenny said simultaneously. "Thay!" Stan rolled his eyes and ran ahead of them.

"Ay, you get back here!" Kenny shouted. Stan looked back, smirking, and flipped him off. "Curse him for being a fast runner."

"So, Cartman, you going to the party?" the Jew asked.

"What's it to you?" I asked back.

"Well, Stan's going, so I thought-"

"I don't have to go everywhere with Stan, Jew," I interrupted. "I'm my own person."

"Cool, so we'll see you there," Kenny said.

I growled but didn't say anything, because I knew I was going to the party anyways. I wanted to make that night _special_, if you know what I mean. Stan and I hadn't done anything since he gave me the blowjob, and I felt that I needed to make him happy, too.

But what would he like? Was he into roses and candles and all that? Did he like it rough? Should I use bondage?

Would he want to cuddle afterwards?

I guess I'd have to find out.

xxxx

**Mua ha ha! More to come, my dearies. :3**


	10. Cellos

**Grr! I've already written this chapter, but it somehow disappeared... Can't even remember how it went. Oh well, I'll do the best I can.**

We arrived at the party around ten o'clock, which was almost three hours after it started, thanks to Stan and his little _issue._

He got into a fight with his mom about a toaster or something and she said he couldn't go to the party and it took a _long_ time to convince him to sneak out.

After I convinced him that jumping out his bedroom window into my arms would not kill him, we went to the party. Craig and Clyde were doing shots and I bet that Craig would quit first. Stan took the bet and was chanting Craig's name until Clyde passed out and Craig raised his arms in victory. Then he puked his guts out on the carpet and Token freaked, so Stan and I went into Token's music room.

He was biting his lip in his nervous way and I couldn't stand it anymore. I pushed him onto the piano bench and started kissing him. After what seemed like eternity, I got up the courage to lift his shirt. He looked at me with wide eyes before unbuttoning my jacket. I loosened his belt and threw it across the room and he ripped off my shirt.

He undid his pants for me and I tugged to get them off.

"The only bad thing about skinny jeans," I said, struggling. He laughed and kicked them off.

"Now you," he said, and started on my pants. I stopped him. "What are you-?"

I went and turned off the light.

"Cartman, come on," he pleaded. "I wanna do it with the lights on."

"Really?" I asked. There was silence. "Are you nodding?"

"Yeah." I flipped the lights back on. "I wanna see you."

"Why?" I asked. "It's not like I'm attractive or anything."

He gave me a dull look. "Dude, you're hot!"

I laughed. "Shut up, Stan, we all know that's a lie."

"I'm serious," he said, not even smiling. "It's me we have to worry about." My jaw dropped.

"What?" I asked. "You're perfect!"

"Please!" he cried, and threw his hands up. "I'm too skinny, I barely have any muscles at all - look at these!"

He motioned to his ribs.

"These are not supposed to show!"

"Dude, are you kidding me?"

"No!" he yelled. "You know what, turn off the light."

"No," I said. "We are doing it with the lights on!"

xxx

The moment was perfect. His eyes were half-closed and he was panting hard and I thrusted.

His hands ran across the piano, making an off-tune but pretty melodie as he moaned.

The lights were on but dimmed so it didn't feel like school or the hospital, where it would have been awkward to do this. My shadow covered his body as I finished and made him look beautiful.

He screamed softly as he came and collapsed on the piano, making a loud thud, as if to signal the end.

I slid out of him and he winced but his eyes showed pleasure. "Oh my god."

"Fuck, I love to hear you scream," I said and we were quiet.

"I knew what you meant," he said and laughed, making the silence go away and my love for him stronger.

He slid off the piano and reached for his boxers. I got dressed and watched him search for his belt. "I threw it, like, way in back of me."

"Found it!" he sing-songed. "It was on a cello." He slipped it through the loops on his pants and looked at me. "Um, thanks for a good time?"

"Whatever," I said, but laughed. "Let's go see if the Jew's panicking about you."


	11. Love

**FINAL CHAPTER. **

**xxx**

Stan and I sat next to each other on a log in front of Stark's pond. He sighed as he leaned into me.

"Do you remember that time at Craig's party?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Yeah."

"When we kissed, I didn't know why I was so...excited, I mean..."

"I was freaked about for a while, too," I said. "I was completely straight, you know? Never thought I'd have a thing for guys. Well, technically, I still don't."

He looked up at me, obviously confused.

"What I mean is, well, when I'm with you it's like I'm with someone who really cares about me, I guess." I_ sucked_ at this. "When I see another guy, I'm not attracted to him at all, no matter how hot they may be. It's only you."

"Really?" He was blushing. "Well, it's kind of like that for me, too. All those years with Wendy and I finally figured out that no matter how many times I'd told her I loved her, I never really _meant_it. But when I say it to you, my heart, like, expands, I guess. At least that's what it feels like. Everytime I'm with you I get this feeling inside me that I can't get rid of. But I like that feeling."

"I get that feeling, too," I said. "Especially when I'm right beside you. I wonder what that feeling is."

Our lips met and he whispered: "It must be love."

xxx

**Finished. I hope the end wasn't too rushed and that you've all enjoyed this fic. I know it seemed like I had given up on it, but I just needed a little time. I also hope that I see more and more Stanman fics out there! I love to get inspired by them, and that's how this fic started.**

**If you have a Stanman fic, BTW, send me a message and I'll read it and perhaps add you to my Stanman community!**

**R&R**

**-Scary Bones :D**


End file.
